An Alternate WWII Scenario
by Trailblazer2500
Summary: Hitler's eventual takeover did not happen, neither did the WWII that we know of, instead, from 1939-1945 the world remained at peace as it struggled out of the economic depression. But a certain dictator lurking in the USSR is not quite so satisfied, he will sweep over the West and drown them with a Red Tide, and force Europe to feel the horrors of war once again.
1. Chapter 1: Dilemma

**The original concept of Red Alert was what if Adolf Hitler did not take control, I base this story around the same assumption except this time; I removed all of the fictitious characters and inserted real life ones and got rid of all of the fancy technologies for (what I feel) was the most appropriate technology for such an event.**

**In summary, consider this a (slightly) more realistic take on Red Alert, in this case though, Hitler's takeover failed and WWII as we know it did not happen.**

_Midnight, Dec 23, 1945, Eve of the Eve of Christmas_

_Potsdam War Academy,_

_Office of Erwin Johannes Eugen Rommel_

'Herr Kommandant! Shouldn't you be heading home for Christmas?' A dark haired young man with piercing blue eyes asked another man seated at a desk, the man sighed in response.

'_Ja _Joachim, but the recent reports of possible Soviet troop and armor movements have me very worried.' Rommel said as he clasped his hands together.

'I'm sure it is nothing Herr Kommandant, besides, isn't it little Manfred's birthday tomorrow?' Joachim smiled.

'Yes but still…these reports, should not be taken lightly, we are after all, only a few short kilometers from the border with Poland, and Poland as I'm sure you know, does not have a very able military, much less one that might even slow the tide of the Red Army.' Rommel got up from his desk, held his hands behind him and went to the window and surveyed the outside, it was snowing fairly hard, and the glass was cold and frosty.

Generalmajor Erwin Rommel was one of the few German Officers who had yet to head home to his family for Christmas, although he maintained only a command at the Potsdam war academy, he remained keenly interested in keeping up with military developments, the latest of which was quite troubling to him.

There had been reports from Poland about a large scale military buildup by the USSR, since that country was so closed off from the rest of the world due to it having a communist government, there was no way for anyone to find out more about the buildup, and most people, still remembering the horrors of war, were not apt to think about the possibility of another grinding war of attrition, this time with an enemy who could literally hurl waves of men at them.

And so Generalmajor Erwin Rommel had chosen to remain as the only High commanding officer still present at his post so close to Christmas and his child's birthday, he wanted to be able to be a part of the action when it happened, after all, he was definitely one of the closest to the border and would be able to take command in the event of any invasion.

Also, the terms of the Treaty of Versailles had only been lifted a few years ago, and the Bundeswehr had been slowly rebuilding and retraining to full strength and number under the leadership of Heinz Guderian, who was currently the chief of staff.

Rommel knew that Guderian had sent off letters and warnings to their counterparts in the United Kingdom and France, knowing that Germany could not stand on her own against a red tide. Guderian had hoped that it might warrant a response, it would be quite ironic, Rommel thought, Germany would now be standing with Western Europe against the USSR when a mere three decades ago it stood against them.

He had his doubts about the possibility of help from either France or Britain, while he maintained a healthy respect for both, even keeping up with developments in armored warfare posted by the British in articles; he knew that both were extremely keen on avoiding war at every possibility, and would probably sacrifice every country in Europe if it allowed them to do so.

'_Politics…' _Rommel shook his head, he detested it, and he regarded it as an occupation filled only with backstabbers and glory hounds seeking higher positions to their own benefit. He preferred very much to remain in the military; he was more comfortable dealing with the matters of soldiering than politicking.

Rommel still held memories of his participation in the Great War with the 6th Württemberg Infantry Regiment in France and Italy, he had been wounded a number of times, been highly decorated for his conduct and leadership, and had even escaped from behind enemy lines once.

Rommel chuckled at his experiences during the war, they were now but distant memories, and he had to focus on the issue at hand. He had already written off a letter to his beloved wife Lucia Maria Mollin explaining that he might be quite late home for Christmas.

Rommel sighed, while he was no warmonger, he was at heart, a practical man, and if it came to that, he would definitely see to it that his family would be protected from it, and he would be the one to do it.

'Ah, you worry too much Herr Kommandant, I'm sure it will all blow over soon, in any case, I will be taking my leave, goodnight Herr Kommandant.' Joachim saluted the general who returned it before the young man walked away.

Now alone, Rommel returned to his desk and rubbed his temples as he began reading through the reports again.

The report had been sent to Guderian from the Polish Defense Minister, and he in turn had forwarded it to the other high-ranking German commanders over the country, it had been made by several, rather deep infiltration missions as well as several spies, which would have been considered an act of war or at least some kind of Casus belli. Nothing more had been said about how or what they had to do to get the information.

It indicated how there was massive troop movements undergoing particularly at night, an estimation of the size of the forces, their composition and their equipment.

Despite being a practical person, Rommel had difficulty wrapping his head around the estimates given by the Polish.

The entire soviet force was divided into two separate formations called the "Belorussian Front" and the "Ukrainian Front". These two fronts were commanded by Mikhail Kovalyov and Semyon Timoshenko respectively with Kliment Voroshilov as Commander-in-Chief. Both formations combined totaled nearly a million men divided further into over thirty divisions and more than ten brigades. They had nearly ten thousand tanks and guns, and at least three thousand aircraft.

And that was just those arrayed against the border with Poland, there could be hundreds upon thousands more lurking behind the borders of the rest of Eastern Europe, perhaps even more waiting to sweep down from the Caucasus and into the Middle East for it's oil. They could simply burst forth and sweep through all of Europe easily due to the flat terrain; this was inclusive of the Northern German Lowlands.

The report did not go into much more detail than that other than the names of the individual formations, being such a closed off country, no one had the faintest idea of what was going on in the USSR, and conversely even less was known about the Red Army. What was the morale of their men? Or state of their equipment? What about the amount of training they had received? How about the vehicles and guns? Were the commanders competent or otherwise?

Rommel was already impressed by the information, but he was left feeling the want for so much more, there were just too many variables that had to be guessed, not enough to form a plan of action, not that there was a whole lot that could be planned other than to tell the troops to dig in as best as they could, and as the Bundeswehr were still very much infantile, there simply would not be enough manpower to even slow down a red tide, let alone try to halt it in its tracks.

'_Unless the western allies come to our aid of course…and even then…' _He noted disparagingly.

At the moment, they were incredibly vulnerable; most commanders were home for Christmas save himself and a few others.

He then decided to go over the Bundeswehr's own composition to see what could be done.

Most of the ground troops were well trained and well equipped with the best rifles and machine guns that could be provided, they had all been well drilled and trained in combat, they were tough, disciplined young men who could be counted on to stand fast if needed.

The Panzer divisions were only recently taking delivery of the new Panzer IV, a much improved design compared to the older models, but they would not be fully equipped with them for another year or so in the very least.

The artillery arm was equipped with numerous assault guns for supporting infantry on the offense; it would not be difficult to dig them in for defensive purposes. The 8.8cm Flak guns were powerful and accurate pieces that could blow slow targets out of the sky easily, Rommel had dabbled in the usage of them as direct-fire weapons, their high velocity shells easily penetrating most levels of armor.

It was the Luftwaffe though, that was the best equipped and most ready for the possibility of war, powerful and accurate dive-bombers, fast and able fighters, and bombers capable of carrying large loads. There were even rumors of secret weapons being developed.

But there just was not enough! If they had one more year, they would be well equipped to at least hold their own against the mass of troops, but Germany's economy was only barely recovering from the great depression thanks to large scale spending by the government, so the focus was on the economy, not the military, what was the military going to be used for anyway?

His thoughts were rudely interrupted when the phone on his desk began ringing, irritated by this sudden interruption; he grabbed it and held it to his ear.

'Hello?' He spoke into the phone.

'Herr Kommandant Rommel!' The voice almost screamed at the other end.

'Who is it? What is happening?' Rommel asked in confusion.

'It has begun Kommandant! The Reds are coming!' The voice said in a highly panicked tone.

**Just a note I wanted to make, this will not be Tom Clancy-esque hyper realistic techno-thriller, this is just me imagining how different the Second World War might be.**

**As a direct result, all information on Erwin Rommel came from the internet; if I continue this expect to see the other famous WWII personalities appear.**

**Reviews and thoughts are highly, **_**highly **_**appreciated.**

**It would also be nice if you wish to include your own OCs in the story, just use this format.**

**Name:**

**Rank:**

**Unit:**

**Age:**

**Personality:**

**History: (just a summary)**

**Other notes: (if any)**

**I wouldn't mind taking from different sides and different nations, I would like the diversity. Also, try to make them more of the common soldier/officer sort, the higher ups are mostly real people.**

**P.S. For the Germans reading this, I apologize for any offence caused, as well as incorrect usage of words.**


	2. Chapter 2: Invasion

**I still found time to squeeze in one more chapter, not too bad I suppose.**

'Hello?' Erwin Rommel spoke into the phone.

'Herr Kommandant Rommel!' The voice almost screamed at the other end.

'Who is it? What is happening?' Rommel asked in confusion.

'It has begun Kommandant! The Reds are coming!' The voice said in a highly panicked tone.

_Several hours earlier…_

'Are the troops ready Major Vasily?' Colonel-General Mikhail Kovalyov asked his aide.

'I would think a few more hours would be better General, but they are ready to go.' Vasily answered, he stood in Mikhail's command tent in front of the General at his desk.

'Alright then, get me Voroshilov.' Kovalyov said, and soon, he was on the phone with the Commander-in-chief.

'Hello? Commissar Voroshilov? This is General Kovalyov, we are ready to go sir, and we're now just waiting for your orders.' Kovalyov said firmly.

'You have your orders General, begin Operation Red Thunder, liberate these lands and give them back to their people, good luck comrade, the eyes of the people of the Soviet Union are looking down upon you.' Voroshilov answered.

'Yes sir.' Kovalyov said, and hung up on the defence commissar, he then dialled another number into the phone, this time for his co-commander, Semyon Timoshenko.

'Timo? It is time, are your men ready?' He said when the other side picked up the line.

'Yes comrade Mikhail, the men are ready and waiting.'

'Ok, I have the orders from Moscow; we are to commence Operation Red Thunder.'

'Then it has begun, good luck comrade general.'

'You too Timo.' Kovalyov finished and both men hung up.

Kovalyov checked his watch, in precisely ten minutes Operation Red Thunder would commence, and both the Belorussian front and the Ukrainian front would open the invasion with a massive barrage from nearly five thousand artillery guns, and that was just the ones arrayed at Poland, hundreds upon thousands of men lined the border with Eastern Europe, and in precisely ten minutes, if everything went according to plan, they would spill over the border like a flood and drown Europe.

'_They would never see it coming.' _He chuckled to himself, the preparations had been undertaken with the utmost stealthiest means as was possible, not a single drop of information was allowed out of the Soviet Union in the time that it took to move the hundreds of thousands of tons of men and machine to the border, Europe was for the most part, at peace, and he doubted they had the stomach for war given the horrors of the Great War.

His thoughts drifted towards the planning stages of the invasion, he recalled how Stalin had wanted to divide the invasion of Poland between the two commanders, ostensibly done in order to ensure that both commanders could independently work of each other and so, make the Red Army less predictable.

Kovalyov knew the real reason though, Stalin was a paranoid person who was inherently suspicious of anyone who could possibly have more power than he did, and so wanted to break up the power and keep everyone squabbling so that no one person could ever have enough power to possibly instigate a rebellion and overthrow him.

That policy might have worked in peacetime, but when planning for war, many saw the consequences that could come from such a decision, none questioned him though as the threat of execution was an ever present one when dealing with such people in such high places of power.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when Vasily poked his head through the tent and said, 'it has begun comrade general, would you like to see it?'

Kovalyov stepped out of his tent and into the frigid night air, it was cold, but it definitely was not as cold as Soviet steppes in winter, compared to that, this was almost warm.

He watched as the artillerymen busied themselves with the passing and loading of ammunition, the "Stalin's organs" rocket trucks were being aimed and made ready to fire, the men had rehearsed the drill dozens of times over, now it was just a matter of muscle memory to them.

Kovalyov checked his watch, _'one minute to go.' _He picked up a loudspeaker and walked into the midst of the artillerymen, he quickly shot down those who paused to salute, noting that the preparations were far more important than simple formalities.

He watched his watch carefully, counting down in his head the numbers until finally, he gave one last look around him, and saw the tense faces of men with their fingers on triggers, all ready to fire at a moment's notice.

At that exact point, when his watch struck the appointed time of two hours before midnight, he lifted the loudspeaker to his mouth and shouted, 'Fire!'

The entire landscape around his opened up in a cacophony of fire and brimstone, hundreds of artillery pieces and rocket launchers loosed their deadly cargos in unison, the ground shook with the force of so many pieces firing at once, it was a terrifying sight to behold.

Another ten minutes after the bombardment started, the guns fell silent, and a red tide of men and machine began moving across the border into Poland, tanks and self-propelled guns rolled forward, their tracks grinding into the snow and dirt, behind them, infantry halftracks and trucks loaded with food, ammunition, fuel and other supplies rolled forward.

It was all done with speed and precision, in the dead of the night; entire villages were caught by surprise and captured with no resistance.

Kovalyov expected some form of scattered resistance from Polish border guards, he did not expect to find no resistance at all, the border guard posts were merely empty concrete blocks with nothing inside, there was no trace that anyone had been there at all, they even found the forests and fields that were pockmarked by explosions, but there was no one around, no one to fight, no shooting at all.

It mattered little to Kovalyov, perhaps he thought, the Poles had been away on Christmas, not even bothering to man their border posts, the Red Army had achieved complete surprise on the Polish border…or so they thought.

Miles away, in Warsaw, a messenger on horseback arrived at the Polish parliament building, other messengers were headed to the few military installations there were, a few more were headed to the various towns and villages to get the message out to the rest of Europe: the reds were coming.

The Polish had not been blind to developments along their border with the USSR, they had kept several fast and light messengers on horseback all along the border, waiting for the Reds to spring their attack, spies had infiltrated across the border and into Red Army camps, taking pictures of sensitive documents for them to be processed.

As the government of Poland began evacuating, calls went out to the Border guards along the German-Polish border to alert the Germans as to the situation while whatever the Polish military had was withdrawn to lines at the back, painful as it was since many had to leave behind their villages and towns unguarded to consolidate.

Even as the information spread, those in furthest away were able to prepare accordingly and begin evacuating; those closest only realized what was happening when a Red Army soldier kicked down the door.

_At the German-Polish Border…_

Stabsunteroffizier Aldrich Berger had been unfortunate enough to be the one that had to be posted to the German-Polish Border on the Eve of the Eve of Christmas, he and the other officers had drawn lots to see who would be the one to take their platoon out to be posted so close to Christmas, sadly enough, he ended up drawing the short one, so now he and his platoon were out on the German-Polish Border in the freezing wintry night.

It had all been going quite well though; there was a lighted fire outside the bunker to help keep warm and thick sweaters and blankets.

Aldrich could not understand why the military wanted to partake in an evidently police action, for some reason his company had been ordered to replace the usual border guards at the border, the change had been ordered a few weeks ago with no reason being given.

'Hell, it is _cold_!' His companion Wolfgang swore loudly as he stamped his feet and flapped his arms.

Aldrich let out a long breathe of air from his post in front of a bridge across the Oder River, they were currently working two hour shifts with two men per shift, and his and his fellow soldier Wolfgang's turn would soon be over, and then he spotted lights in the distance, and the hum of an engine grew louder and louder.

Unsure as to what this could be, Aldrich moved to the barrier in front of the bridge, pointed his rifle at the lights and shouted, 'Halt!' Wolfgang did the same, shouldering his rifle and aiming at the lights.

In the darkness of the night, the lights grew brighter and brighter and larger until a motorcycle with a sidecar pulled up in front of the barrier.

'State your business!' Aldrich said firmly, both men kept their rifles aimed at the two passengers, both of whom jumped out and ran towards them, from the clothes that they were wearing, he deduced that both were his Polish counterparts from the other side of the river.

Both ran up to him and began speaking loudly and quickly in excited tones of Polish and English while pointing and making gestures at the horizon beyond the Polish side of the border.

Aldrich was forced to take both of them to his camp site a short distance away and called on one of the his platoon mates with Polish blood who spoke the language fluently to translate, and a few minutes later, the Polish border guards had gotten the message across to their German counterparts.

The Red Army was on their way.

This shocked the platoon, so much so that even Aldrich hesitated in believing them, but the Poles were incredibly insistent and there was a strong tone of fear in their voices, eventually, consensus was that they had to contact high command immediately and pass the message along anyway.

As a result, Aldrich was soon at the nearest phone in the nearest town several kilometres away down the road, he had been granted use of the Polish guard's motorcycle, and with Wolfgang had raced towards the nearest town.

They then ran around for a bit until they found a phone at the town hall, whereupon he tried to ring up his superior the company commander, but apparently he could not be reached, and he continued trying to call up various places until he eventually got to the Potsdam War Academy, where he was directed to the office of one Generalmajor Erwin Johannes Rommel, the ranking officer in the area, also the closest at the time.

'Hello?' Erwin Rommel spoke into the phone.

'Herr Kommandant Rommel!' Aldrich nearly screamed as he released his frustration.

'Who is it? What is happening?' Rommel asked in confusion.

'It has begun Kommandant! The Reds are coming!' The voice said in a highly panicked tone.

'What? How do you know this?'

'The Polish border guards Herr General! They told us that they were alerted by scouts along the Polish-Soviet Border, they are only several hours away General.'

'Scheiße! Alright, what's your name soldier?

'Stabsunteroffizier Aldrich Berger sir, I command a platoon guarding the border.'

'Alright Officer Berger, now listen to me very carefully…I want you to do whatever you can to spread the message, get the outlying villages ready to evacuate as soon as possible, tell them to not to use the main road since the enemy will go down that way and instead find alternate means, also tell your platoon to link up with any other platoons and units you can find, and whatever happens soldier, move fast!'

'Understood Herr General, what are you going to do?'

'I will contact high command and alert them of the situation, I will also spread the alert to any nearby military bases and camps, now hurry!' And with that the General hung up, Aldrich put down the phone.

'Well?' Wolfgang asked nervously.

'Go back to camp, tell the others that we need to spread the word, tell the civilians to avoid the main roads as they evacuate, or they might get caught by the Reds.'

'And what about the Poles?' He asked.

Aldrich had completely forgotten about them in the heat of the moment, he pondered on it for a moment, 'it'd be useless to send them back now, they'd kill themselves trying to stop the Reds,' he said, 'tell them that they are welcome to accompany us.'

'Understood.' Wolfgang walked off.

Aldrich wasted no time, he asked the mayor to call for a meeting immediately, despite the mayors' reluctance, he eventually sent the call out. As a result, several minutes' later, dozens of extremely annoyed, angry people entered the town hall, demanding that the mayor explain himself.

Aldrich clapped his hands impatiently to draw their attention, 'People please listen to me, the Reds are on their way, as of this moment they are barreling through Poland, I need everyone's attention now, the Reds are on their way, please take only your valuables, and avoid the main road as you may get caught by them, understood?'

The reaction he got was rather unexpected.

Many townspeople merely stared at him as if he were crazy; a few jeered and shouted obscenities in his direction.

Aldrich tried very hard to control himself, he was about to speak again when he heard a loud drone of an aircraft engine.

'_Strange…why would there be airplanes here?'_ He wondered, he was answered with a loud explosion far away that made everyone silent.

He quickly ran out, and his jaw dropped when he looked up at the sky.

Dozens of planes littered the sky, the smaller ones dove through the town and let loose with their machine guns and rockets, causing large fireballs to erupt, others at the back had men jumping out of them with white hemispherical shapes forming above them.

Behind him, the rest of the townspeople gaped in shock; there would be no time to gather any belongings.

'Everyone! Please leave immediately! There is no time to lose, avoid the main road at all costs or you may be caught!' Aldrich shouted, he was surprised when all the people at the town hall piled out neatly and began running without a stampede developing.

'_Well at least something is happening.' _He noted in his thoughts, but as he watched the white hemispheres descend, he realized that he would have to fight to get back to his platoon, and then he remembered that he had failed to set a specific rendezvous point after raising the alert.

'_Thank goodness I still have my rifle and ammunition.'_ He thought as he took the rifle hanging from his shoulder, flicked off the safety, and checked the ammunition. He began thinking about what to do.

'_Wolfgang should have gotten back by now, this means my platoon may have scattered to raise the alert, I can't go back that way, so I have to go West and find others to link up with.' _He thought for a moment, he swallowed hard as he shouldered his rifle and set out.

**And so closes the second chapter, if you still want to submit OCs that's completely fine, just put it in the review section.**

**Hopefully I got the ranks right since all I did was search Wikipedia for it, but if I did not, I apologize, I'm not Tom Clancy after all.**


	3. Chapter 3: Aerial Victory

**So there was only one contribution when I asked to come up with your own OCs, I'm sorry but the chapter was written and completed before you contributed, but I'll definitely do something about that in a later chapter.**

* * *

Aldrich held his breath as he watched several squads of Soviet paratroopers spread out through the forest, he was currently in a prone position behind a tree, and he had his rifle ready to fire if they spotted him, although he had no intention of starting a fight with so many opponents at the same time.

It had been an extremely time consuming process, first ducking through alleyways and buildings as he made his way out of the town as the paratroopers had taken control of it, and then almost crawling nonstop for what felt like an eternity as several squads set up what were evidently forward posts.

He had been able to make his way far enough that the town was barely visible in the distance, but there were still dozens of soviet patrols all over the place.

He knew the location of one major military base just a few kilometers away, he did not know if the bombers had alerted anyone there, the entire base might even be asleep at this time of the night, but he had to get there somehow regardless.

For now though, he was stuck playing the waiting game with patrols of paratroopers as they swept the area for any possible escapees. He had no camouflage other than military standard issue winter fatigues that were in white, so he could only pray they were overconfident or lazy.

He swallowed hard, a few of them were getting close, he debated firing on them if he was spotted or surrendering, if he shot at them he would get killed quickly, if he surrendered then he might have a chance of living, might even be able to breakout and find his own way back.

His thoughts were interrupted by a mighty roar from above, he turned to face the sky as a large, four engine plane went down in flames, Aldrich stared in wonder as it appeared to be diving straight for him, but it leveled out a little and he ducked his head as it passed over, snapping off a wing along with a few trees and scattering debris everywhere before coming down in a fiery explosion.

This apparently attracted the attention of most of the patrols, and Aldrich suddenly found himself with an opening, he quickly slipped through, and took off at a sprint once he was a safe distance away, he still couldn't believe his luck.

After pausing for a moment to catch his breath, he continued his long walk.

* * *

_A couple of minutes ago…_

Erich Hartmann, a Luftwaffe fighter pilot assigned to the third squadron of fighter wing JG 52, was on station when the call went out for a scramble, at first it had seemed like a routine drill amidst all the recent drills that had been undertaken, until of course "this is not a drill" had come up over the loudspeakers, as he rushed to get suited up and ready, Erich wondered if they had inserted that part in just to try and insert some action into what was otherwise a boring drill.

He soon found out, once he was in the cockpit of his Messerschmitt Bf 109 that it really was not a drill, there was no clue as to what was actually happening, but he was ordered by the control tower to taxi and prepare for take-off with the rest of his squadron.

'Hey Bubi, try not to fuck this one up alright?' his wingman Walter Krupinski laughed, referring to a training incident wherein Erich had gotten distracted, ended up performing aerial acrobatics over the Zerbst airfield in his plane and then getting severely punished for it.

Erich Hartmann let a small smile grace his face, but he wondered what they were being sent up for this time, his thoughts were interrupted as the control tower's voice echoed in his radio, 'we have confirmed a report that multiple unidentified aircraft have entered our airspace, your orders are to investigate, and if necessary, target and destroy them, you're cleared for take-off, good hunting meine Kameraden.' The tower finished.

And soon, Erich Hartmann and his squadron were high in the skies on a vector towards the soviet aircraft, the night was cloudy and hid any moonlight that might have been.

'Remember what I taught you, fly high look at your target, consider your options, attack at close range, and then break off.' Feldwebel Edmund Roßmann said into his radio.

'Roger.' Erich replied in the affirmative.

'But don't we need to identify the target first?' One squadron member protested.

'Yes, but why do you think there are _multiple unidentified aircraft_ eh? Use your head Berndt!' Walter remarked.

'Quiet all of you! We are approaching the area; maintain formation and radio silence until I say so.' Edmund shushed all of them.

And a few minutes later, they were over the area they were vectored to, they were stunned to look down and see the bright lights of burning fires saturating a large area.

Erich was struck with anger by who could have done this, until Walter came over the radio.

'Contact! Multiple unidentified four engine planes heading east bearing 270! They're dropping bombs!' He said loudly.

'Affirmative, I see them, all planes, climb high, pick your targets and engage.' Edmund said into the radio, at this the pilots pulled back on their sticks and ascended. It was easy to identify them against the silhouette of the burning ground from above.

Erich chose his target, the bomber at the back of the group, he entered a steep dive and strained against the g-forces acting on him, he then levelled out right behind the bomber, its dark silhouette filling his cockpit frame.

And then he squeezed the trigger, letting rip a fusillade of bullets from his machine guns and cannon, he watched as they tore first into fuselage of the bomber, and then into the wing and engines as he let his plane drift slightly to the side.

It did the trick, the bullets ignited the fuel in the engine and one of the engines exploded, taking the rest of the wing with it, Erich watched as the bomber spiralled into a dive and his first kill was made.

He quickly circled back and ascended, he could see several others being dropped out of the sky by his fellow pilots, he quickly set his sights on another plane and dove at it, once again he levelled out, and let loose with his guns, this time the engine caught fire, but did not explode, and the bomber dived down on a steep incline towards the ground.

By now though, the bombers had caught onto the attack, and were firing into the night with their machine gun turrets, they had little idea what to fire at though, the German pilots hid in the clouds between each run, picking of bombers at the outside of the formation.

As Erich lined up his fourth of the night, he was startled by a long burst of bullets from the rear of the bomber, he quickly dove down as several glanced his wing with one just passing his cockpit, he gave a short upward pitch to rake the belly of the bomber with a short burst before diving away, it did not down the bomber though.

At this point, Edmund came on the radio, 'all planes, break off, we're getting low on fuel, I think we've chased them off.'

In response, Erich looked at his fuel gauge, and was surprised to see that he had very little left, a quick mental calculation told him that it would be just enough for the flight back, he deduced that it might have been from the quick scramble, not enough time to fuel up to full.

He cursed mentally; he could have gotten one more had the tail gunner not messed up his approach, but enough was enough, he could get more another time.

'What's going on? Why are they attacking us?' One squadron member asked.

'We'll figure out when we get back, now hurry up, we're all low on fuel.' Edmund replied.

They ascended above the clouds so that they could more easily see each other, after regrouping; they contacted a radar station and were vectored back to their airbase.

Upon landing and exiting his plane, Erich was surprised to see many scratches and scars along his wings, and they were not caused by the gunfire that he took from that one bomber.

'Probably from the debris that came off of the bombers that you shot down, it is a dangerous tactic for a pilot to get that close to his enemy, the debris could potentially damage the engine, but the results are definitely worth it no?' Edmund explained to him as Erich examined the damage; he decided that it was indeed worth it, three planes down in a night.

And then a voice came over the loudspeaker at the airbase, 'all scrambled pilots report for debriefing!'

In a large room, the pilots of JG 52 were shocked to find out that they were now caught up in a war with the Soviet Union, who had apparently been lying dormant for this one moment, and had exploded across its borders and was even now driving straight for Germany. With Zerbst airfield so close to the border with Poland, it was thought prudent to evacuate the Luftwaffe to airfields at the rear as quickly as possible.

JG 52 was to evacuate to Celle air base in Central Germany, and would strike the advancing Soviet forces from there until they were required to move again.

* * *

_Elsewhere…_

Generalmajor Erwin Rommel got off the phone with Heinz Guderian, the alert was out; Guderian had tasked Rommel with scraping together whatever he could find to and slow down the Reds as high command and the cabinet were evacuated from Berlin.

Rommel could see that his task was nearly hopeless, the Red tide was almost on the German borders already, the majority of the Bundeswehr were at home with their families, and he had to somehow come up with a force that might somehow slow down the Soviet advance. The first thing he did was to look at a map of all the military bases in Germany, he cursed loudly to himself when he noted that many of them were too far down south, and several more were scattered across Northern and Western Germany.

Rommel concluded that Eastern Germany would have to be abandoned; the distance would mean that the military units would have some time to form up, and in the meantime, Eastern Germany would have to suffer the full brunt of the Soviet army.

He was less than pleased with the conclusions he drew from this, he decided that he needed to find a way to the north-western sector of Germany, and draw whatever was available from there. He laid out a plan in his mind, imaging how he would go about the next few days, and plans for stopping the advancing Red Army.

**Erich "Bubi" Hartmann was, and still is the closest real life will ever come to those pilots from the ace combat series (Mobius, Razgriz, Garuda, Galm etc.), the ace with the highest kill count of all totalling a staggering 352 aerial victories.**

**I'll be coming up with more real life personalities in the next chapters, but I'm still open to more OCs.**

**And your reviews are appreciated!**


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